


Dying is Easy

by Jay_Wells



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Death, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Loss of Parent(s), Minor Character Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Same timeline as Thank You
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thou’st gone, forever gone—yet where,<br/>Ah! pleasing thought; to endless bliss.<br/>Then, why Indulge the rising tear?<br/>Canst thou, fond heart, lament for this?<br/>-- Alexander Hamilton, 1774</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying is Easy

_ Rachel, 1767 _

Alexander is shivering under the ragged blanket. There’s a wet spot under him where sweat has soaked into the mattress. The smell of vomit hangs in the air, imbedded into the walls of the tiny room, though James has done his best to keep it clean. His muscles ache. His breathing is laboured. Feverishly, he prays to God to save them. His mother has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, doing her best to warm him. He can feel her convulsing, her clammy skin against his, and something tells him it won’t be long. 

“Mama,” he whispers. “Mama, I love you.”

She doesn’t respond, except to pull him closer, and he knows she has heard. 

“Mama, I promise I’ll be okay. James will take care of me.”

Alexander feels her mouth against the back of his neck. It moves in an attempted smile. There’s the quietest sound of a laugh in the darkness. Her breath is sour against his neck. It won’t be long now.

He lays there, promising that he won’t forget her, that he won’t let James forget, that if it hurts too much to hang on, he understands. He won’t be mad at her. Shaking he takes her hands and tries to squeeze, but he’s too weak. There are no more words.

It comes at dawn. He hears a gasp, and then she is gone.

 

* * *

 

_ Maria, 1774 _

The child lays in her bed, eyes half-open. She is Elias’ daughter, just a baby. Alexander feels as if she were his own, struggling to breathe gasping now and then. He gazes on her flushed cheeks and glassy brown eyes, her little chest heaving with the effort to stay alive. He has known her for her entire life, has seen her grow from an infant to a toddler. He fears he will not see her live to become a young woman, and cites this as the reason he agreed to be here with her. 

“Mr. Alexander, am I going to die?” The question hits him hard. She is frightened, and he wants to comfort her, but he is unsure that he can. The truth is, that she will. Her breathing has been growing weaker for the past three hours.

He has seen dead children before: translucent, waxy skin, dull eyes, their mouths stained blue. He doesn’t want to see it again, but the unwanted thought comes:  _ it won’t be long now. _

“Maria, would you like to hear a story?” He asks her gently.

Maria nods and reaches out to take his hand. Her fingers wrap around two of his. “Yes, please.”

He tells her the story of Jona and the fish, adding in a little imagination: a princess named Maria, who lives inside the fish and takes care of the lost souls he swallows until they are returned to land. Jona persuades Maria to come with him and see the world, and they go to the circus and ride the elephants. Then an angel comes down to Maria to tell her it’s time to return to the fish. Jona is upset, but Maria isn’t afraid because she knows you’ll be safe and warm.

When he finishes, Maria giggles, but it turns into a coughing fit. “I’ve never heard it like that, Mr. Alexander.”

“It is absolutely true.” Alexander swore. “I swear on my life.” 

“I’m tired. Will you kiss me good-night?” she asked softly. 

Alexander leaned over and kissed her forehead tenderly. He wanted to protect her from this, and his face lingered near hers in the hope his own breath would save her. The girl kissed him lightly on the cheek, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. It won’t be long now. “Good-night, Mr. Alexander. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Indeed, my dear child.” Not long.

He sits with her fingers clutching his hands, praying with each heartbeat that the next one comes. Then, at two a.m., it doesn’t. 

 

* * *

 

_ Phillip, 1801 _

Eliza is pressed to his side, clutching their son’s hand. Angelica and her husband are in the doorway, keeping the other children from seeing their brother lying in bed, sweating, face screwed up in a grimace. He panted, “I wasn’t going to shoot, Pa. I wasn’t.”

“I know.” He bit back a sob. His darling son was going to die. “You are a man of honor.”

Phillip was pale and moaning. “I wanted to make you proud.”  
“Always.” It won’t be long now. “I am always proud of you. You are so, so brave.”

“I love you.” Eliza says, caressing Phillip’s face gently. Their daughter, Angelica, is in the corner, praying fervently. Alexander is beyond praying.

It won’t be long now.

“I love you, too.”

His darling little one.

His sister-in-law is crying silently, hiding her tears from James and Alexander Jr. John is off by himself, hyperventilating. Eliza Holly is trying to comfort him through her own grief.

It won’t be long.

Oh, God, don’t let it be long. If he won’t live, don’t let it be long.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” Phillip’s eyes are full of tears. His writhing breaks Alexander’s heart, and he barely watch, but a sense of obligation keeps his eyes glued to his son’s face.

The look of peace that washes over him is devastating.

 

* * *

 

_ Alexander, 1804 _

“I do not blame Col. Burr. I intended to do no harm, and I have done none.” He was fading in and out of conscious. Last he remembered, he was standing in front of Burr. Now he was on a boat, with the family physician working furiously on him. Nathaniel was rowing stoically. He sees his gun lying untouched. Did he even shoot? “Be careful with that gun, Nathaniel. It’s still cocked and undischarged. I don’t want anyone hurt.”

“You damn fool.” Nathaniel hisses. “I cannot believe I agreed to let you go through with this. I’m such an idiot.”

“You have the letters? Make sure my wife knows what became of me. If you must tell her now, be gentle, but do not lie.” Alexander could not feel his legs, or anything below his waist. His brain is too fuzzy to register the pain. “And take me to the Church -- Trinity. I wish to make my peace with God.”

“You never shut up, not even when you’re dying, do you?” There is a strained affection in Nathaniel’s words. “I know what my duty to you is; I’ll do right by you.”

He loses consciousness.

He is not in the church. He is in a bedroom.

Eliza is there when he wakes up. “What were you thinking?”

“I am sorry I was not a better husband.”

Eliza stares blankly, then chokes out words that he doesn’t hear. Alexander rambles on about his cousin Ann, all the things she needs to do to keep them afloat when he is gone, and Eliza just cries and begs him not to die. Gouverneur pulls her against his chest, tapping his good leg nervously. His face is red and puffy.

“Where is the priest?” Alexander asks.

“He won’t come.” Gouverneur says. “I’m sorry. Do you want to send for him again?”

“Please.”

The priests is sent for, and he begins his rites. He thinks that if it is his time, it is not so bad. It shouldn’t be long now.

But it is long, longer than his son lasted.

Angelica visits him, among others. She cries. “Alexander, why? Why on  _ Earth _ would you do this?”

He doesn’t need to answer her, because somehow, it seems foreordained that he should die like this, like it was the inevitable conclusion to his life. He instead speaks pleasantly with her. It won’t be long, so there is no reason not to talk while he can.

He is still given more time, and it only gets worse. His throat is dry, and the pain has redoubled since his last dose of morphine. Eliza sits by his side tirelessly, fanning him, readjusting his pillows, helping him drink from the glass at his bedside. It doesn’t matter that he can’t speak, because she knows. She always knows.

In the end, Eliza must sense that there’s not much time left, because she sends for the children. She brings in Little Phil first, and he feels a tear roll down his cheek. His child will be fatherless. They all will be. Eliza holds the baby up to his face for a last kiss. Then the others file in somberly and crowd at the foot of his bed, and there is so much he wants to say, beginning with  _ I’m sorry, _ but it’s too late.

He passes a few hours later, so quietly he doesn’t realise it’s time.

**Author's Note:**

> Alexander was not actually present for Maria's death, because he was away at college during that time, but he wrote a very moving poem in reaction to her passing that I use as a reference for any time he interacts with children


End file.
